


Finding home

by LadyJaneGrey



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, F/F, Healing, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-10 07:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJaneGrey/pseuds/LadyJaneGrey
Summary: Obviously, if someone hurts you, I will be on the first plane back home.Of course, this was the only scenario that could have been imagined - the big macho army medic flying in from far off lands to slay dragons. But, somehow, against all odds, the shoe had landed on the other foot, and Serena Campbell couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t entirely sure of what she was doing.





	1. Chapter 1

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Obviously, if someone hurts you, I will be on the first plane back home._

Of course, this was the only scenario that could have been imagined - the big macho army medic flying in from far off lands to slay dragons. But, somehow, against all odds, the shoe had landed on the other foot, and Serena Campbell couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t entirely sure of what she was doing. 

\--------  
The morning had started off quiet enough. Serena found herself needing to do little but finish some outstanding paperwork at, what was for her, a downright leisurely pace. By the third hour of relative calm, she decided that a celebratory coffee and cake were in order. Walking out of her office, Serena saw Cameron Dunn hunched over, clutching a hand to his ear, while Morven Dunn leaned toward her husband, one hand gripping his shoulder tightly while the other moved slow circles along her swollen stomach. Belatedly, Serena realized that Cameron was speaking into a phone, his free hand waving determinedly through the air as if to convince the unseen person on the other end of the seriousness of his words. Serena stopped at the curiosity of the scene in front of her. It wasn’t until Morven lifted up her head and their eyes met that Serena felt her blood run cold. 

Serena’s first instinct was to run away. The look that Morven had given her – pain and helplessness and knowing – was too much. They’d shared these glances a few times before, when isolated moments of work had triggered their shared anguish of belonging in that not so exclusive survivors-of-lost-loved-ones club. But, she’d learned long ago that there was no such thing as running away. So she slowly made her way on leaden legs to stand next to Cameron. He was speaking loudly. Too loudly. Serena could barely get more than a mumbled sentence out of him on most days, yet here he was in the middle of the morning, shouting amidst the normal course of life on the AAU. Serena tried to register what Cameron was saying, but her body and mind were becoming too heavy to bear her own weight and consciousness, and she caught only fragments and detached words.

 _Trauma…injury…head…coma…flight._

Serena was sure her body was ready to give in to gravity when she felt a firm and steady hand grab her elbow. She knew it was Morven, and although she was conscious of not placing too much pressure on the pregnant woman, Serena leaned slightly in to her to steady herself. Morven’s arms quickly went around Serena, providing needed warmth and support. Serena wished time could just stop in that moment - curled into the new softness of Morven’s body she wanted to press rewind, to go backwards away from the inevitability of Cameron revealing what she already new in her heart had come to pass.

“There’s been an accident.”

\---------  
And now Serena found herself on a red eye heading to Nairobi. 

Cameron had hung up the phone looking so scared and lost that it had taken barely a second for Serena to offer to accompany him. Morven had, of course, stated that she would go with her husband, but the pregnancy had been a rough one, wrought with severe morning sickness and high blood pressure and any other number of grievances that had made it nearly impossible for her to be on her feet for more than a few hours a day, let alone to travel to Kenya to help tend to her ICU-embedded mother-in-law. Serena had insisted. They were family, she told Cameron. No matter what happened, Serena Campbell and Berenice Wolfe loved and would always be there for one another. This, she told Cameron, was what they had promised one another. 

But, was it really? As Serena sat, tucked rather uncomfortably in economy seating next to a sleeping Cameron (courtesy of a pill Serena insisted he took pre-flight), she wondered if maybe she wasn’t completely deluding herself.

\------  
They had gone together to Jason’s wedding. For a moment, despite the lying and the cheating, it seemed that they were back to being the odd little put-together family they had always considered themselves. But, Serena knew it was just a facade. By the time they had reached Albie’s for the reception, everything had slipped. 

They had broken up while sipping wine at the bar. It was all so polite, so anti-climatic, so small compared to the enormity of what had been. In the aftermath, they toasted the happy couple and danced with friends, and even spent a few moments swaying to music with their arms encircled around one another before realizing that touching one another in that moment might, indeed, break them. It was Jason and Greta’s day, after all, and both women were determined to keep the demons of heartache at bay for a little while longer for the sake of the happy couple. 

It was in the car, heading back to Serena’s house, that the air between them thickened. Bernie sat staring out of the passenger seat window, the fingers of her left hand tapping a staccato rhythm on the top of her knee, clearly ready to murder for a cigarette, while Serena stared unblinkingly at the drive ahead of her. Once inside Serena’s house, Bernie wordlessly grabbed a bag from the front entrance and walked up the stairs. Serena took off her coat and wearily sat herself down on the living room couch. Above her, she could hear the steady footsteps of Bernie moving throughout the rooms, followed by the sounds of doors and drawers opening and closing with cruel efficiency. How long does it take to disengage one life from another? 

It seemed like mere seconds before Bernie was standing in front of her with a backpack hanging carelessly from her shoulder and a plastic shopping bag clutched in one hand. Serena lifted her head to meet Bernie’s eyes for the first time since telling her it was over, and for the second time in her life she felt that her heart might bleed out in her chest from fissures of pain. 

Later, neither of them would be able to remember who actually made the first move. For sure Bernie had launched and Serena had clutched, but the exact sequence of events leading up to them tangled together on the living room floor would remain a mystery. Bernie, naturally, won the upper hand, pushing Serena to laying on her back with arms held akimbo above her head by Bernie’s not-so-gentle grip at her wrists. Bernie, her shirt unceremoniously ripped open down the front and straddling Serena’s naked waist, leaned down toward her, catching the skin below her ear with teeth before whispering, “Tell me to stop.” 

“Please,” Serena breathed. “Don’t stop.”

It was rough - maybe even a little crass – certainly painful. It wasn’t that Serena was unused to this kind of lovemaking from Bernie. Yes, she had enjoyed plenty of moments of gentle and languid expressions of love from Bernie – long, slow caresses and deep, warm kisses that made Serena feel like her body was being lit from within. But, there were other moments – ones that were often preceded by a loss in theatre or a gut punch from Charlotte – that filled Bernie with a desperate urgency to express everything she couldn’t possibly say between their bodies. Bernie, so clever and so utterly useless with words. But, Serena had come to love the way Bernie would write it all on her body – the light and the dark, the playful and the furious. And, indeed, Serena loved to give as good as she got. Bernie’s openness and willingness had set Serena off from the start. No longer trapped in the endless cycle of self-doubt caused by her limply duplicitous husband, Serena discovered the complete joy of giving and taking from an equal and open partner. She discovered that she liked to demand as much as she liked to beg, and she liked to stake claim as much as she liked to be claimed. On more than a few occasions she smirked at Bernie’s choice of a long sleeved, high-necked shirt to wear under her scrub top, knowing full well that the choice was a utilitarian one used to cover the map of frenzied exploration Serena had made on her pale skin just hours before. 

But, when Bernie entered her quickly and crudely as she lay on the living room floor, Serena felt the pain and anguish and love and memory and finality of the act might just cleave her body in two and leave her lifeless. 

“Bernie. Please. No more.”

Serena was vaguely aware of the sensation of Bernie’s lips traveling a path down her stomach before she reached out a shaky hand to stop her. It was too much. Bernie had fucked her. And then again. And again. And in between, she had used lips and teeth and tongue until Serena begged to be filled again. Serena was boneless, and she wanted desperately to get the chance to touch Bernie – to be inside her and taste her one last time. She moved to bring her hand to Bernie’s face, but Bernie stopped her. She got up quickly on to her knees and grabbed Serena’s wrists, holding Serena’s arms far away from her body. It was over. Serena knew it. 

As Bernie rose to stand, Serena turned on her side and closed her eyes. She listened as Bernie dressed and gathered her bags again. She felt the soft weight of a blanket spread over her aching body. She heard the catch of the door as it opened and closed behind Bernie. 

Serena woke to her body screaming from sleeping on the floor for the better part of the night. Pulling away the blanket, she moved her hands lightly over the places Bernie had marked her – an imprint of teeth on her upper right thigh, a line of light bruises from right shoulder to breast, finger marks on wrists and arms, and, later, she would see in the mirror a reflection of red lines spread over her back like a monochrome Jackson Pollack painting. 

Serena rose and wrapped the blanket tight around her body as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom. The feeling of absence hit her instantly. Gone from the right bedside table were Bernie’s reading glasses and the dog-eared paperback she’d picked up at the airport. Gone from the dresser were the various foibles of Bernie’s daily routine – lotion, lip balm, the small bottle of custom perfume she picked up from a shop in London. Serena opened her closet to see empty hangars where Bernie’s tailored shirts once hung. At the bottom of the closet was a pile of crumpled clothing Serena had left to ignore for days to come. She dug through the mound of scrubs, sweat pants and old shirts until she found the grey, ratted tee with the faded R.A.M.C across the front. Pulling the shirt to her face, she inhaled the faint scent of citrus and spice. It was only then that Serena allowed herself to cry. 

\------  
Serena sipped her hideously cold red wine and tried to push thoughts out of her head. But, the reality she knew she had to face was that when Bernice Wolfe woke up (because she would wake up…she had to), Serena Campbell may very well be the last person on earth she’d want to see.


	2. Chapter 2

Serena sits at the edge of the bed in the guestroom of Bernie’s Nairobi apartment. She’s meant to be getting some a rest – a deal she had made with Cameron; he sits with his mother at the hospital now, while Serena rests in a real bed, and in the morning, they switch places. She knows she should just lie down and give in to the waves of exhaustion falling over her, but her body is so wired from sleeplessness and the shocks of the day that sleep seems some distant illusion.

Serena and Cameron had gone directly to the hospital after arriving in Nairobi. Bernie’s co-lead in the trauma unit, Dr. David Magara, met them almost the instant they reached hospital reception. He ushered Cameron and Serena to a private room to discuss Bernie’s condition. For a moment, Serena was unsure whether she truly belonged in the middle of this particular family crisis. She wasn’t even sure if she was allowed this level of information. At one point, she knew she had been on Bernie’s list of kin at one time, but that may have well changed. But, before she could hesitate, Cameron reached for Serena’s hand, holding her tightly to him as he followed Dr. Magara. He suddenly looked so small to Serena. A small and frightened child. Serena thought of the moment that Bernie, working through her mum guilt, had told her of how a little boy Cameron would sit on the edge of her bed, putting on the bravest face he could muster, watching her pack for her latest tour.

_Mummy, will you think about me when you are away?_

_Yes, of course, my love. I will think of you every second._

_How will I know?_

Well _…you look up to the sky. The same sky that is above you is also above me no matter where I am. So, you look up and know that mummy is looking up and thinking of you._

_Ok, mummy. I will. I promise._

David, as he insisted they call him, was calm and cool, striking just the right balance of clinical and emotive, while talking to Cameron and Serena. Serena knew the tone well. She had been in this position a thousand times before; trying to relay the appropriate information to worried families, prepping them for what to expect when seeing their loved ones through often dire circumstances. But, Serena could also see that David cared deeply about Bernie and that having to detail her trauma to them was difficult and painful for him in his own right. A strange mix of comfort and jealousy came over her as she looked at the man who stood where she had once meant to. She was grateful for his decisive and composed presence but envious of the closeness and care he got to share with Bernie on a daily basis, knowing full well that she had given up her right to that long ago.

Bernie had been brought in by local police, David explained. She had been found unconscious on the side of the road not far from the hospital. A robbery gone horribly wrong, the police suspected. She had been beaten severely – fracture to radius in the left arm, cracked rib, trauma to the head due to blunt force, leading to a closed skull fracture and concussion. Each word pricked at Serena’s skin like the point of a knife. It’s bad, Serena told herself, but not the very worst. Her brain went on replay, Bernie will be fine, over and over like a mantra. She knew she was doing exactly what she had gently counseled families against for years, believing that her words and her will could overcome the facts of medicine.

“I want to see her now,” Cameron spoke as David wrapped up his briefing of Bernie’s injuries.

“Yes, of course.” David continued delicately, “I must tell you…there is quite a lot of contusions to the face. I need you to be prepared for when you see her.”

But, of course, nothing could ever have prepared them. As Serena stepped into Bernie’s private room, she felt the sting of bile hit her throat. The need to run out of the room and empty the contents her stomach in the nearest toilet was eclipsed only by the need to support Cameron who, upon seeing his mother, leaned into Serena and let out a low, strangled keening sound so filled with anguish that it seemed to Serena more animal than human.

The left side of Bernie’s face, from forehead to chin, was a swollen, angry mosaic of purple, black and blue. Her head was wrapped in a bandage and her un-bruised skin was so pale as to be translucent, all of it giving the appearance of lifelessness. It’s not the same. Bernie is strong, Serena told herself. She’d already survived so much; this was just going to be another uniquely tricky walk in the park.

But, really, how much could one body take?

\------

 _Bernie is stretched out naked on Serena’s bed, one arm tucked under a pillow and the other flung carelessly across her stomach. Her messy blond waves fanned out around her head, illuminated by the early morning sun filtering in through the bedroom window. Serena sits at the end of the bed, equally naked, with Bernie’s foot in her lap, gently massaging the muscles in her lower leg. It has been almost a week since Bernie had come back from Kiev; almost a week since they had finally come together in love and honesty and trust. The week had been singularly glorious in all_ it’s _newness and singularly busy with work. With an endless stream of trauma patients, piles of backlogged paperwork and generally mismatched schedules, they barely managed time to touch, let alone follow the intensity of their first night together. And now, by the grace of no emergencies and a not so subtle and knowing Jason (who announced the evening before that he was leaving for Alan’s to give them space), Serena and Bernie found themselves with a day off together and alone, with all the hours in a day to explore one another to their heart’s content._

_“Christ, darling,” Serena smiles as her hands work up the length of Bernie’s calf. “You really do have legs for days.”_

_“Better to trap you with, my dear.”_

_“You just did not.” Serena laughs ‘Your_ humour _is something to get used to, isn’t it?”_

_“Well,” Bernie smiles. “I thought you just wanted me for my body anyway.”_

_“Quite right.” Serena sighs, trailing her fingertips lightly up Bernie’s leg. At the apex of her knee was a soft patch of skin, the size of the pad of Serena’s thumb. Serena traces the edge of the scar, raising her eyebrow at Bernie._

_“Bike accident. Summer holidays when I was 11 or 12. The minute I would get home from boarding school for the summer I’d run out of the house to find my best mate, Ian. It used to drive my mum crazy to see me tear off my school uniform, throw on some jeans and run around the village with a bunch of boys. Mum was terribly elegant – jeans and mucking around with village boys were definitely not things befitting a young lady.” Bernie laughs. “Anyway… I flipped my bike chasing Ian one day and smashed my knee on a rock. It was a bloody mess. Poor Ian half-carried me all the way home. Six stitches.”_

_Serena moves closer over Bernie’s body, her fingers leisurely continuing the journey from knee to_ thigh _and beyond, teasing gently between Bernie’s legs. Serena pauses at the sharp intake of breath she elicits from Bernie, smiling at the wetness that covers her fingers. She continues slowly upwards, tracing the line of slightly puckered skin low on Bernie’s pelvis._

_“Charlotte,” Bernie says, her voice thick with unmistakable sadness. ”Breach birth.”_

_Serena leans down and softly kisses Bernie’s stomach at the spot where she once carried the child that now barely speaks to her. Serena lays her hand flat on the plains of Bernie’s body, drawing her way up to fingering the line of discolored skin between Bernie’s breasts._

_Bernie sighs. “IED.”_

_Try as she might_ to _stop them, Serena’s eyes well up with tears. Bernie brings her hands up to cradle Serena’s face, her thumbs wiping gently at the edges of Serena’s eye._

_“Hey…what’s going on?”_

_“Oh, it’s nothing,” Serena responds, shaking her head. “It’s just…if you didn’t have this, we never would have met. I don’t even want to contemplate that possibility. But, when I think of you lying, unable to move, on the side of a road in Afghanistan next a blown out car_.... _It’s just…I almost can’t breathe from the pain of it.”_

_Bernie closes her eyes, searching for the words that so often elude her. “It really was the worst time, Serena. And, I don’t just mean the IED. I mean everything. I thought I might die. Then, I thought I might never walk again. And, then I thought I had lost everything… Alex, my family.” She looks directly into Serena’s eyes. “I would do it again, though, Serena. I would do it again knowing it would all end up right here with you.”_

_Serena moves quickly to capture Bernie’s lips with her own. As the kiss deepens, Serena shifts her body so she is straddling Bernie’s thigh and begins moving in a slow rhythm. Serena pulls her head away slightly, tugging gently at Bernie’s lower lip with her teeth. She stops to look at the woman beneath her. Bernie’s eyes, peeking out from under lowered lids, have gone so dark they are almost black and her lips are curled into a lazy smile. Serena moves her hand to Bernie’s face, brushing her thumb along an impossibly high cheekbone. Serena drinks in the way Bernie looks in this moment. She has seen the many looks of Bernie Wolfe. She realizes now that, long before she ever reciprocated that fateful kiss on the theatre floor, she had been intently watching Bernie, trying to register the various meanings of a furrowed brow, pursed lips, a distant stare, a quick smile - anger, frustration, guilt, sadness, excitement. But this Bernie… this Bernie looks new. This Bernie looks content. Serena smiles her own happiness back at Bernie._

_“Again?” She asks quietly as she moves her hand down to cup Bernie’s breast. Her lips are soon to follow, sucking not-so-gently on a nipple as Bernie’s back arches and her hand comes up to fist in Serena’s hair, holding that glorious mouth tighter to her body._

_“Definitely”_

\-----

Serena gets up from the bed and moves through Bernie’s apartment. Her mind has been a toxic mess of thoughts since the moment she left the hospital. Images of Elinor on life support have mixed with images of Bernie lying in her hospital bed. No, sleep in Bernie’s guestroom is simply not going to happen.

Serena searches through Bernie’s kitchen looking for some good old-fashioned English tea. She notes the stack of dirty plates and teacups strewn around the sink. Some things never change. She stops at the sight of a recent picture of Jason, Greta and Guinevere taped to the refrigerator door over a large crayon drawing of a rainbow. Serena realizes, with bittersweet understanding, that Jason and Bernie have continued their relationship despite the break-up, and that Jason has never once mentioned to her that he still communicates with Bernie.

Serena finally finds a few loose bags of generic black tea and, while the tea steeps, she gives in to the urge to look around the apartment, to see pieces of Bernie’s current life. On the desk in the living room, Serena sees by the many stacks of paper that Bernie has not managed to overcome her fear and distaste of admin. Serena picks up a few papers off the top, smiling at the messy loops of Bernie’s handwriting. How many times had she chided her former lover for handing her totally illegible paperwork? _Darling, this is going to require the Rosetta Stone to decipher!_

On the corner of the desk is a small stack of photos. Serena feels a bit like a snoop as she picks them up, but she wants so desperately to see the evidence of a well and thriving Bernie. Indeed, the pictures show Bernie full of life. Bernie, decked out in hiking gear and with colleagues Serena recognizes from the hospital, smiling a megawatt smile while standing in front of a sign marking arrival at Africa’s highest peak; Bernie smiling in the front seat of a safari jeep while giraffe litter the landscape behind her; Bernie in scrubs talking to a row of enraptured students. The last picture shows Bernie in a dark, tight-fitting suit, standing next to an undeniably beautiful woman in a long, red silk dress. Something about the captured moment, Bernie and the woman leaning toward one another with eyes fully focused on each other, makes Serena uncomfortable. She places the pictures back on the desk, takes her tea to sit on the couch, wrapping herself in the blanket that lays over the back edge. The warmth of liquid and familiar scent emanating from the blanket begin to unwind Serena, allowing her to give in to the heaviness in her eyes.

The buzzing is distant but still wakes Serena with a start. At first, confused by her surrounding, she tumbles off the couch, spilling the remnants of tea from the cup that was sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Bernie’s apartment. Nairobi. My phone.

She finds it lodged in the cushions of the couch and answers quickly.

“It’s mum,” Cameron says in a shaky voice. “She’s awake.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

 

The room is finally quiet. For a moment, Serena thinks she just might be able to catch her breath, rearrange her tangled thoughts.

_She was awake. She opened her eyes for a moment and looked at me. It was just a moment, but she was there._

Cameron was pacing circles around the room when Serena arrived, his anxious energy a sharp contrast to the stillness filling the room. Bernie lay in the bed, her eyes closed, the machines around her whirring and beeping a gentle rhythm. She was unconscious again. To be expected, really. The fact that Bernie opened her eyes was a good sign but by no means a signal that she was in the clear. Head trauma is tricky, Serena knew all too well. All they could do is continue to wait. And, after convincing Cameron that, with unknown time ahead of them, it was bet for him to go back to Bernie’s apartment for a shower, some food, and some sleep, Serena finds herself alone with Bernie for the first time in almost two years.

Serena moves her chair closer to Bernie’s bed. She has dreamt about this moment before – well, not exactly this moment – in her dreams, Bernie is awake and brooding with the anger that filled their last moments together; and, sometimes, in the dreams that leave Serena most rattled, Bernie is awake and pressed against her, skin against skin, searing hot and alive.

Serena gently touches Bernie’s hand that lay beside her sleeping body, ghosting over each long, graceful finger. Try as she might to deny it; Bernie did inherit the physical elegance of her mother. Serena almost laughs thinking of the ways Bernie has worked to reject the legacy her mother gave her, from steadfastly refusing to answer to her given name, to never quite learning the use of a hairbrush, to trading in fancy dresses for fatigues and high heeled shoes for combat boots. But, there is no denying the beauty of Bernie’s long, lithe limbs and her hands that managed to be both delicate and strong all at once. Serena remembers watching those hands in surgery for the first time, so deft and assured in movement – qualities she would come to admire and love even more when those hands moved down her body.

No, Serena thinks, there isn’t much Bernie’s hands can’t do.

 

\-----

 

_Serena is leaning up against the kitchen counter, watching Bernie chop vegetables with speed and precision, not unlike that which she exhibits in theatre on a daily basis._

_“Where did you learn to cook, darling?” Serena asks, sipping at the glass of red wine in her hand._

_“It was Marcus, actually,” Bernie laughs. “Early on in our marriage, he surprised me with couples cooking lessons. I was furious with him when he told me. I thought it was some backhanded comment on my domestic abilities. But the joke was on me. I fell in love with cooking. And after the kids…well, it just became the way I tried to spoil them when I was home…favorite meals and all that.”_

_“Well, I am impressed.”_

_“Yes, but you are easy.” Bernie stops her work for a moment, turning to Serena with a soft and suggestive look that sends tiny shivers down Serena’s spine._

_“I am.” Serena smiles back. “And aren’t you the luckier for it?”_

_Bernie moves slowly toward Serena, trapping her against the counter with arms at either side of her body as she leans into her for a long kiss. “Yes, indeed. I am lucky.”_

_Serena kisses her again, eager to keep the shroud of the moment tightly around them. The day had not been a great one. Serena had lied and she knew Bernie knew it. She hadn’t meant to, but she was angry and scared and Jasmine walked right up and gave her the out by claiming the wine was hers. She had been such a coward of late, using her grief to blame and hurt those around her instead of looking in the proverbial mirror. And Bernie, who had gone from running away to running toward, had now repeatedly put herself in the line of fire to protect Serena. In a rare moment of near desperate and naked honesty, Serena had asked her to come round in the evening and Bernie had clung to her, begging them not fall apart. So, Bernie showed up at her house, arms full of groceries, eyes uncertain but bright, and Serena knew that wanted nothing less than to create an oasis, even just for a night._

_Serena sits on the floor in the living room, nestled between Bernie's legs as she sits on the couch, kneading at the tensions in Serena’s neck and shoulders. Dinner had been filled with an ease that hadn’t claimed either woman in weeks. They talked and touched freely allowing the shadows of heartache to give way to the intimate familiarity that had filled their daily lives before Elinor had died._

_“I can’t believe I ever thought for one second that I actually beat you at arm wrestling,” Serena says as she leans her head down, allowing Bernie hands greater access. Serena gives out a low groan as Bernie’s thumb tackles a particularly stubborn knot._

_“You were close.” Bernie smiles at the sound of Serena’s tension leaving her body._

_“I was not.” Serena chuckles._

_“You were close in so far as you completely threw me by offering to arm wrestle.” Bernie laughs. “I mean…Christ, woman…I was pretty fragile right then. I had just lost my husband, my girlfriend, and had been outed to everyone in the hospital, and then my colleague and friend decides to act…flirty!”_

_Serena lets out a full-throated laugh that is music to Bernie’s ears. “Oh, no, did my poor big macho army medic get a little twisted?”_

_“To say the least. And, may I add, I discovered that smug Serena…well…does it for me, so to speak.”_

_“Well, I shall take every opportunity to bring my smugness to the fore and test that statement.” Serena leans her head back on Bernie’s thighs, gazing up at her with a slow smile. There, Serena thinks.  There is the face I love. It wasn’t until Bernie that Serena knew what it was to be looked at with such unabashed openness, love, and desire. It startled her at first, the rawness of it making her almost uncomfortable. Now, it soothes her, makes her want to touch, to feel everything._

_“I love you,” Serena says, holding Bernie’s gaze so she can feel the weight and truth of the words._

_“And I, you.” Bernie brushes the backs of her fingers along Serena’s cheek before standing up, gently pulling Serena up from the floor along with her._

_Wordlessly, they climb the stairs to Serena’s bedroom. Just inside of the bedroom door, Bernie hesitates for a moment, the worries of pushing Serena too much coming to the surface._

_Serena grabs Bernie’s hand, intertwining their fingers as she leans into Bernie, stopping just before their lips touch._

_“Please, Bernie. Show me.” Serena whispers._

_Bernie needs no more encouragement. She kisses Serena deeply, raising her hands up to undo the buttons on Serena’s blouse._

_They undress one another slowly. Serena feels almost giddy, like the first time they made love, only better because of the knowing, because now being with Bernie is coming home._

_Bernie lays Serena down on the bed and begins a long, torturous descent of touch down Serena’s body. She traces her fingers from forehead down her nose to lips, stopping when Serena pulls a finger into her mouth, biting gently at the tip. Bernie’s hands tease further down Serena’s body, brushing a thumb over a taut nipple, following closely after with her hot mouth. She sucks long and hard and is rewarded by a series of whimpers and moans from Serena. Serena’s head is thrown back against the pillow, her back arched and wanting. Bernie smiles against Serena’s skin, taking pleasure in feeling Serena allow herself to abandon. Bernie slowly licks her way to the other breast, intent on paying equal attention._

_“Please, Bernie. It’s been so long.” Serena groans with sudden urgency, grabbing frantically at Bernie’s hand and bringing it down between her legs with her own._

_Bernie, desperate to give Serena what she wants, pushes two fingers inside of her while bringing her mouth to hers in an unrelenting kiss._

_Bernie moves slowly at first, building on the rhythm set by Serena’s desperate pleas and cries._

_When Serena finally surrenders, she feels like she might cry from how good it feels to be connected with Bernie again. At that moment she knows that no one in the world will ever make her feel as whole as Bernie Wolfe, and that realization fills her with the sudden want to cling to Bernie, hold fast to her in that bed so that the shadows of regret and self-destruction can never reach them._

_Bernie moves next to Serena, her hand drawing soothing circles along Serena’s skin. “What is it, darling?” She asks, sensing a change in Serena’s being._

_Serena turns on her side to look at Bernie, her eyes watery with unshed tears. “I’m so scared, Bernie. I am so scared I am going to mess this up. I…I can’t seem to control myself anymore. Right now I feel…amazing…but I know I can wake up tomorrow and smash it all to pieces. I am afraid of myself.”_

_Bernie gathers Serena in her arms, murmuring ‘I love you’ and placing gentle kisses along Serena’s brow. Serena knows that Bernie can’t and won’t deny what she has said because the truth is that they have been dangling on a precipice for weeks now, waiting to see if Serena pushes them over the edge._

_They sleep with limbs entangled all night long. Days later, when Serena is a stone’s throw away from rock bottom, she’ll wonder if the whole night was just a dream._

\-----

 

Serena holds Bernie’s hand now, entwining their fingers in the way they used to.

“Come on, Bernie,” Serena whispers in a near desperate plea. “Open your eyes again. Tell me to sod off.”

Serena jumps at the sound of a throat clearing. She turns her head to see David standing in the doorway holding two cups of coffee. He walks over to Serena, handing her one of the cups, sitting in the empty chair next to Serena. She belatedly realizes she’s been crying and she brushes at stray tears as she murmurs her thanks for the coffee.

“It’s tough being on this end of things.” He says quietly

“Indeed”

“Maybe even more so under certain circumstances.”

Serena looks at him and sees gentle understanding in his dark brown eyes. Her throat constricts with emotion and all she can do in the moment is nod in agreement. They sit silently for a while, sipping at their coffees and watching the woman sleeping in front of them.

Serena picks at the lip of paper cup she is holding. “Has she told you about me…us?” she asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“A bit.” David answers in tone that reveals no hint of judgment. “I mostly get the details when she’s drunk.” He adds with a chuckle.

Serena looks at David with raised eyebrow and sly smile. “You’ve gotten drunk with Major Berenice Wolfe and lived to tell about it?”

David laughs loudly, a rich baritone sound that Serena finds immediately endearing. “Well, I learned my lesson after the first time. Now I take her to the bar owned by my cousin. He waters down my drinks so I don’t kill myself trying to keep up with her.” He shoots Serena a warm smile. “It goes without saying that you are sworn to secrecy about that last bit.”

Serena, laughing, puts hand to heart in a mock oath taking.

David turns back to Bernie, a look Serena can’t quite decipher on his face. “I don’t think I have ever worked with someone so skilled and confident in my whole life. Or, so proud. I can’t imagine it will be easy for her to accept the help she will need. I suppose that whatever help she gets will have to be pretty tough; will have to be willing to stick it out even under the worst of times.” He looks back at Serena again, a knowing smile on his face. “I don’t suppose I am telling you anything you don’t already know.”

David rises from his chair. “Well, I guess I better get back to it. I wouldn’t want Bernie to accuse me of slacking on taking care of the unit when she wakes up.”

Serena watches David leave the room with heavy sigh. She’s been warned. She accepts it. This is Bernie’s new home, her new family, and they are taking care of her.

 

\----

 

Serena swats at her cheek. Something is tickling – a stray hair, a tiny bug – insistently brining her out of slumber with its gentle annoyance. Her eyes open slowly, registering the scene around her. Bernie’s bed. Her head, heavy with sleep, lying next to Bernies hand. Bernie’s fingers moving down her cheek. Moving.

Serena sits up suddenly, her eyes wide and staring at Bernie. A low strangled moan comes from the woman lying in the bed. She watches Bernie struggle to open her eyes. Her left eye is still too swollen to move well but her right eye is fluttering into wakefulness. Serena knows she should press the call button, run out of the room and yell for David, but she is too scared to stop watching Bernie, scared that if she turns away Bernie will close her eyes again and stay that way.

Serena is holding her breath for what feels like forever. Finally, Bernie looks at her. Her brow is furrowed, the pain etched in her eyes and face, but she is looking at Serena, staring straight into her eyes in wonder and confusion.

 

“Welcome back, Bernie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for encouragement. I am new and horribly shy and terrible with thanks. That said, all of it is much appreciated.


End file.
